


laundry day

by vonseal



Series: magic users [6]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Filler Material basically, Fluff, M/M, a witchcraft fic with no angst tho imagine that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: According to Jinwoo, it was a brand new method to actually wash clothes. According to Minhyuk, it was a stupid idea.





	laundry day

**Author's Note:**

> i posted it on tumblr a few days back, but i think i have a lot of readers here who arent on tumblr? idk maybe im wrong. regardless, here we are (bc i havent written anything new in the past few days, sorry)

According to Jinwoo, it was a brand new method to actually wash clothes.

According to Minhyuk, it was a stupid idea.

“Hyung, you can’t even preform _simple_ magic correctly. I think using magic to wash clothes is – I mean, you’re being optimistic.”

But Jinwoo wasn’t deterred. Nope, because he had worked hard at this spell, writing down the correct pronunciation and researching various techniques in order to make his spell even stronger. “I’ve used potions before,” he pointed out to the younger boy, who _still_ didn’t seem very convinced in Jinwoo’s abilities. “In fact, I’ve washed your clothes with those potions.”

“Awesome, I’m wearing a witch’s curse on me.”

“Shut up, Minhyuk.” Jinwoo reviewed his spell again, mouthing the words out and repeating the nonsensical sounds that certain lines entailed him to mumble. “Just because I’ve got these fantastic powers and you don’t doesn’t mean that you can call it a _curse_. What do you call Sanha’s magic, then?”

Minhyuk didn’t answer that exactly, mostly because any mention of Sanha made him freeze up. Jinwoo smirked; Minhyuk might have acted mature most of the time, but when it came to Sanha, he was nothing but a giant baby. “Besides, Myungjun _hates_ doing the laundry, so if I can make a little bit of time for him to do something else, I’d bet it would make his day a lot happier.”

“And god knows we both _live_ to make Myungjun-hyung happy.”

“I do, at least!” Jinwoo proudly announced.

He was very much unashamed of his infatuation with the necromancer. He would blurt it out from the rooftops if Myungjun wanted him to – but Myungjun never needed him to display his affection to the rest of the world.

(“I just want everyone to know how much I love you,” Jinwoo had murmured one night into Myungjun’s neck, curling up closer to him for warmth.

He could hear the smile in Myungjun’s voice as his boyfriend responded, “I know. I think I’m enough, don’t you?”

Jinwoo thought so.)

“You’re whipped,” Minhyuk muttered under his breath.

Jinwoo didn’t mind that. Myungjun made him happy, and he made Myungjun happy, and if that meant they were _whipped_ , then Jinwoo was fine with being whipped.

“He supplies all of my flowers for me, Minhyuk. He lets me make potions and helps me sell them to my clients. I don’t get much of a chance to repay him, so…” Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders, then tapped his personal spell book. “If I can make his life even a tad bit easier, I’ll do it.”

Minhyuk couldn’t find a response to that, so he just flopped down on the couch and gestured at the spell book. “Let’s see your spell, then.”

“Well, I need a piece of dirty laundry, first.” Jinwoo scurried to his feet. “I can use one of my shirts, because if it gets ruined, at least it’s _my_ shirt.”

“I thought you said this would work.”

“Shut up, Minhyuk.”

He ignored Minhyuk’s chuckling as he rushed to the bedroom he shared with Myungjun. Already in sight was a shirt that he had tossed on the bed. He hadn’t remembered where it came from, only that he wore it the other day and it had been just a little too tight on him, but Myungjun had said that he looked good regardless of the ill-fit.

So he came back with that shirt in tow, and when Minhyuk raised his eyebrows, Jinwoo assured, “I don’t have the receipt for this anymore, and I don’t even remember what store it came from, and it doesn’t even _fit_ me, so I think if this one gets ruined, it’s fine.”

“No, but…it’s, um-”

“Shh.” Jinwoo waved Minhyuk’s concerns away. He didn’t need negativity when he was about to perform a spell.

He laid the shirt out in front of him, smoothing a hand over the wrinkles. They didn’t disappear, obviously, and neither did the small scuffs at the collar that he assumed was from food. It was a white shirt, and it was _obviously_ a little dirty, so it should be easy enough to tell if his spell actually worked out properly.

He sat cross-legged in front of the shirt, Minhyuk watching with mild interest from his spot on the couch, and then Jinwoo began.

Spells were a difficult process – at least they were for _him_. Spells required complete concentration and a skillful ability to pronounce every single word correctly. One misstep could cause destruction; for some witches, the destruction was catastrophic, too.

(For Jinwoo, the destruction was _always_ directed at Myungjun’s plants, and Jinwoo had begun to wonder if he had a hatred for flowers that he was unaware of.)

So as he chanted and moved his fingers over the shirt, he focused harder than he ever had before in his life. He wasn’t going to be made a fool out of in front of Minhyuk – not again. He was going to _prove_ that he could totally be a proper witch.

The spell ended, and the slight glow of magical aura that had surrounded Jinwoo slowly faded away. He was overcome with slight fatigue, and he had to take a few seconds to close his eyes and breathe deeply.

And then he heard Minhyuk mumble, “Might want to tone down on the bleach next time, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo peeked nervously at the finished product.

Pink.

The shirt was pink.

“Oh my god,” he sighed, burying his head in his hands. “My shirt is pink.”

“ _Your_ shirt?” Minhyuk scoffed and slid down to the floor, holding it up in his hands. “There’s a reason it didn’t fit _you_ , Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo blinked up at his roommate, who had a mischievous grin on his face. And, slowly, things were beginning to click in Jinwoo’s mind.

The tight fit. The inability to remember where it came from. The way Myungjun seemed so _proud_ of having him wear it.

“Is this…is this _Myungjunnie’s_ shirt?”

“Please don’t call him Myungjunnie, it’s gross.”

In response, Jinwoo hit Minhyuk’s shoulder. The younger boy gave a small, apathetic, “ow.”

“Why didn’t you _tell me_ it was Myungjun’s shirt?” Jinwoo snapped. “All you had to do-”

“You waved your hand like you wanted me to shut up,” Minhyuk replied. He was still smirking. “So I shut up. Good job with this, by the way. I bet _Myungjunnie_ will be real happy. This was his favorite shirt.”

Jinwoo didn’t know how truthful Minhyuk was with _that_ statement, but in any case, he grabbed the shirt with full intention to hide it somewhere his boyfriend would never find it. Unfortunately for him, though, his boyfriend chose _that moment_ to walk in through the door, a bright smile on his face and a new potted plant held in his hands. “Hey, guys! Look, a customer wanted to gift this to me, it’s hydrangea! Isn’t it gorgeous?”

He had only been caught up in his new plant for a second before noticing the panicked expression on Jinwoo’s face and the ruined shirt down in his hands. “Is that…holy _shit_ , is that _my shirt?_ ”

Jinwoo knew he couldn’t hide it any longer, so he regretfully laid it out in front of him. “There was a mistake-”

“Minhyuk was on laundry duty this week, wasn’t he?” Myungjun turned his angry gaze over to his best friend, who blinked owlishly at him. “ _Minhyuk?_ ”

“It wasn’t me!” Minhyuk didn’t want to be caught up in Myungjun’s loss of temper, so he pointed an accusing finger in Jinwoo’s direction. “It was Jinwoo!”

“Why on earth would Jinwoo ruin my shirt? He loves me too much, and he knows that’s my favorite shirt!”

Jinwoo didn’t want Myungjun to be upset with him. After all, it was _his_ task to make sure Myungjun was happy. And the unspoken final words in that task were _with him_. Jinwoo wanted to make sure Myungjun was happy _with him_.

And so if Myungjun was upset with Minhyuk, so be it. That was the price that must be paid.

While Myungjun’s stare was focused on Minhyuk, Jinwoo took the opportunity to quickly close his spell book and shove it under the couch.

“That’s right, Minhyuk,” he started, and Minhyuk looked over at him incredulously. “I _knew_ it was Myungjunnie’s favorite shirt. And I _told_ you to tone down on the bleach.”

“You should’ve listened to Jinwoo, Minhyuk,” Myungjun scolded. “You’d _better_ buy me a new shirt, or I’m never speaking with you again.”

Minhyuk continued to point at Jinwoo. “But he-!”

“Stop blaming my boyfriend! As if Jinwoo would do this.” Myungjun scoffed, then motioned for said boyfriend to stand up. “Let Minhyuk worry about that, Jinjin. You’re trying to fix it, aren’t you?”

He hadn’t been, but he nodded hurriedly anyway, and Myungjun smiled softly at him. “Don’t worry. It isn’t your fault. Come on, let’s find the _perfect_ spot to put this hydrangea!”

Jinwoo complied, and when Myungjun was down the hall, he spared a glance back over to the still shell-shocked Minhyuk.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Minhyuk gave him the middle finger.

Which, really, was probably less than what Jinwoo _did_ deserve, so he accepted it.

(He would also do laundry physically from then on, rather than magically.)

**Author's Note:**

> legit dumb fluff oops.
> 
> hit me up on my tumblr, where i post a lot more fics, [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com). mostly drabbles, and i'll try transferring a lot of them over to a03 when i lose motivation to actually write new stuff lol.


End file.
